I'm yours ,you're mine
by SecretsIWontShare
Summary: A three chapter short where John and Sherlock have their ways with each other. Tying, use of a riding crop, and sexual content ahead. Only for mature audiences
1. Chapter 1

Love In an Elevator

"We're going to be late Sherlock." John was tugging a coat on, trying to spur Sherlock into action.

"Hmmm, but its not a very interesting case, is it? Just a run of the mill drive-by. We'll be back before lunch." Sherlock mumbled from the couch.

"Only if you move..." John was about ready to leave without him, when Sherlock finally stood, grabbed his coat and scarf, and promptly walked out. John followed after, walking only just down the road to the scene. On arrival, Sherlock, promptly announced that the shooter did know the victim, and that he was right handed, white, originally from France, roughly 40, and balding. The boys were just wrapping up when Gregg approached them.

"Morning, gents." He said, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

"Hmmm." Sherlock responded in his usual way, and John shot Gregg an apologetic look.

"Well, I need you guys to come in today, if you can. To the station, I mean. We're all meeting up on the 7th floor for some sort of staff meeting and they need you two there because of how many cases you've worked. 2 o'clock. Cn you make it?" Gregg spoke quickly, glancing from John to Sherlock.

"Of corse we can. But we must be going." And with that Sherlock stood and walked of toward 221b.

2 o'clock came so much faster than it should have, after hours of the two men severally working on their blogs and experiments. The cab took the to the front of the police building, and after a quick security check, they were in. Weaving thru the metal and brick maze, Sherlock was taking mental notes of everything they walked past. Posters, people, water fountains, desks, walls. The stair were no option for John's leg, so it was to the elevator to get to the meeting. There was no one else on the elevator, which meant it would probably a long, quiet ride to the top. Around the fifth floor, the elevator made a terribly loud creaking noise, accompanied by a sudden stop.

"Are we there?" John looked around the elevator, wondering why they had stopped but the doors hadn't opened.

"Something has jammed, we're stuck." Sherlock announced without any reaction.

"Stuck? But, for how long?"

"Oh, maybe 10 minutes, 15 at best. Might as well relax, John. We're not going anywhere." Sherlock looked at him. "You look so wonderful when your worried."

John and Sherlock had been dating for about a month now, John being less comfortable with it than Sherlock, who didn't seem to notice. "Oh, be quiet."

Sherlock came over came over to where John was leaning against the elevator door. "And even more delicious when your annoyed." He purred. John was lost in Sherlock's aura, leaning forward against him. Sherlock grabbed johns arms and held them over his head. John locked his lips onto Sherlock, bucking against each other, lost in each other. Sherlock moved on to John's neck, and both men were moaning against each other.

"I... Want ... You." Sherlock whispered.

"Oh, god, you have no idea, Sherlock."

"Say it, say my name again." Sherlock almost hummed it, both kissing passionately again.

"Sherlock... Holmes..." John was whispering seductively between kisses. Suddenly the elevator started up again.

"Oh, dear, fix your hair!" John whispered quickly to Sherlock. They both adjusted their disheveled hair and clothes and tried to keep a straight face. When they entered the meeting hall, Gregg asked "what took you so long?"

"Elevator got jammed, had to wait. Sorry, did we miss much?" John was trying so hard not to laugh. He had just had his first really kiss after all. Well, first kiss with a man anyway.

"No, just go find some seats." Gregg motioned toward to long table. Sherlock sat near the front whilst John chose a seat in the back, fiddling with his phone. A notification popped up, a new message.

_We'll finish this at home. -SH_


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock exchanged a few glances throughout the meeting, and when all was said and done they raced down the stairs like children, smiling but silent. They waved down a cab in record time, holding hands all the while. As soon as the apartment door closed behind them, they were all over each other, disrobing and taking pleasure just from each others presence. Sherlock pushed John back on the bed, straddling him, both still in their underwear. Sherlock grabbed both of John's hands and, in one swift, sexy movement, tied John's hands firmly above his head with sherlock's purple scarf.

"Tonight, you're mine. Tomorrow, I'm yours." Sherlock bit at John's neck, caressing and nipping at the tender flesh. Both moaned, wanting more and more. Sherlock stroked John's length, ever so softly that it was killing the both of them.

"Then make me yours." John whispered. For a second, Sherlock was caught off guard with the realisation that this was his first time. What do I do? What do I say? "Just put it in, Sherlock. Your doing..., wonderfully." John groaned, his need over taking his mind. Sherlock complied, and both were submerged in a trace of primitive need. Both knew how to move, react, how to respond. Sherlock was feeling the climax, trying to last out for John when he felt and saw John lose it. Both were lost in a high unlike any drug. The two collapsed next to each other on the bed, sweating and panting.

"I wish I had done that years ago." Sherlock stated.

"Same here." John said.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock awoke and went to scratch his face, but could not move his arms. Dazed and still half asleep, he tried again, and when he failed, looked hove his head. He was tethered to the bed by his own scarf, completely naked and alone.

"John?" Sherlock's shaky voice filled the apartment.

"That's sir, to you." John entered in his military uniform, but no weapons, exempt for one.

The riding crop.

"Now, solider, you gave me a deal. I was yours, now you are mine. Roll over." John ordered. Sherlock complied, twisting his wrists to fit his restraints. He was very uneasy about what was about to happen. The almost always confidant and in-charge Sherlock Holmes was reduced to a POW of his flat mate.

"Now, for every question you get correct, you get closer to my reward. Everyone wrong and you get, well..." He gave a hard whack to Sherlock's behind with the crop. Sherlock gave a spangled cry and regained himself.

"You like that?"

"Yes." Sherlock whispered. Another deafening whack.

"Yes, sir." John corrected.

"Yes sir." Sherlock responded.

"And who do you belong to ,Sherlock?" Josh was smiling as he carried out this act, trying not to laugh at what was going on. Just don't think about it.

"Doctor John Watson, sir."

"Good, good, and who is the only man you bend for?" John traced the riding crop down Sherlock's spine, patting lightly on the red blotches on his rump.

"You sir." Sherlock hissed, wanting John to give his his 'reward' already.

"I think you've done well, Sherlock."

"Thank you." He shrugged back, hopping this was over. Another heavy slap hit sherlock's behind, and he screamed a strangled, unexpected cry.

"Thank you sir!" John corrected.

"Thank you sir." Sherlock whimpered.

"Now you may receive your reward..." John unzipped his pants, freeing his already hard member, and entered Sherlock. Both moaned so loudly, Sherlock gripping the sheets, wrapped up in the pain and pleasure of it all.

"Say it, Sherlock. Say my name."

"John Watson."

"LOUDER!"

"JOHN WATSON!" Sherlock screamed, then let out a London, desperate cry as he came. John climaxed as Sherlock tightened around him. Both collapsed, just like the night before, and held each other, John now without his hat or shirt.

"Thank you... Sir." Sherlock hummed in John's ear.


End file.
